MUSHROOM STEW // DSMPxOC

Prologue

    EDITED 17 MAY 2021

 "Dream, please escort Tommy and Stella out of my country."

***

     Despite the biting wind I was not cold. The small dirt shack did little to insulate leaving Tommy and I to fight against the chill. Our toes and the tips of our fingers had long since gone pale, and behind the scraggy door dividing us from outside we could hear mobs gurgling and rattling.

     Neither of us acknowledged the other was awake, though we both knew. I think we were trying to pretend that everything that happened today had been a dream, and knowing that someone else experienced it too made it hard to play that part.

     From where he was curled into my side, fingers clutched tightly around my shirt, I could hear Tommy whimpering. I think he was crying. I never asked, though. We didn't have a bed, nor anything to cover us, beside the clothes on our backs. The first nights in Exile were the worst that I can remember.

     Up until Tommy and I finished construction of the homestead of Logstedshire, our nights were spent hauled up underneath a makeshift tent and in the dirt shack that we later deconstructed for space.

     I didn't cry as Tommy and I boated to Exile, or when Dream threatened us with death to get rid of our stuff, or even when I saw Tommy break down in front of me. I shed no tears while I accepted that our friends wouldn't be visiting us, especially not after what happened when Jack Manifold attempted to and Tommy basically killed him, as upset as I was. It hadn't quite settled within me that I was in Exile. In fact, I volunteered for Exile to help protect Tommy and to hide his... accomplice, Ranboo.

     I did cry, however, when I nearly lost by a skeleton, and I had to face death in the eye, still trying my hardest to keep Tommy safe. We were corned in the depths of a strip mine after the bones accidentally made its way inside. The metal tips of the arrows were dull, and the feathers at the end of the shaft were not all in good condition, making the skeleton's aim suffer. I think I would have died if the arrows were pristine. Tommy did not cry this time, and I believe it is because he hadn't really comprehended that we might actually die in exile.

     For weeks I watched as Tommy held on to his humanity, his kindness, his gentleness, grasping for just one person to reach out. People did reach out, actually. Sam did, along with Jack, and Ranboo. But I don't think they were the people that Tommy wished visited. None of them were Tubbo, his best friend with rams horns jutting out of his skull, just a bit above his ears, with dirty blond -or maybe brown- scruffy hair that curled down to his eyebrows.

     I think the beach party was the last straw for Tommy. After so long of Tommy internally fighting against Dream, desperately clinging to the idea that life couldn't keep going without him in L'manburg, this was what broke him. There wasn't much confrontation against Dream, no real disagreements, at least, until we lost Logstedshire.

     Let me rewind this true tale, and start at the breaking point. Perhaps you can begin to understand what made me hate mushroom stew.

***

So there's the beginning, huh? 

Admittedly, the first couple of chapters are a bit rough, BUT as of right now, im holding onto chapters five and six while writing seven, and the latter two are written *significantly* better. So maybe idk stick around and see how it goes, you can always leave later hinthintnudgenudgewinkwink? (i promise i'll get around to ending these starting chapters once i get to like, ten or something idk)

Thank you to everyone who has opened this up so far! maybe leave a vote or a comment? Tell me about your day, about your crush, your favorite flower or food. I'd love to hear about everyone who comes by, even if you don't stay <3